“There is nothing to do. There is nowhere to go.” Thich Nhat Hahn I had an appointment with an oral surgeon in The Dalles, OR. It’s 20 miles east of my home in Hood River. The morning sun made freeway driving difficult. At one point, I gunned the engine to speed by a cluster of … More Riverwalk
“The future happens, no matter how much we scream.” Derek Walcott I meander through my days, indifferent to their purpose. I seek elusive peace. I play golf with friends. Or, I indulge in the calm and quiet of our local library. Sometimes, the Columbia River waterfront beckons. There, I mingle with the dog walkers and … More Summer’s End
Stray cats prowl our neighborhood. Each day, I leave a small portion of kibble on our porch. I place it under the eaves, sheltered from rain and gusts of wind. The food disappears. I’ve noted two visitors. One is burly. He has the demeanor of a New Jersey mobster. He must have a home. His … More Lost and Found
“The future ain’t what it used to be” Yogi Berra I’m an early riser. I’ll drink coffee and read until the fog of sleep lifts. Recently, a dangerous heat wave blistered Oregon. So, I’ve taken to watering my plants early in the day. This spring, I eliminated the wildflower spaces. An invasive weed had begun … More Pots and Weeds
“How many times can a man turn his head, and pretend he just doesn’t see?” Bob Dylan Wind and more wind scours the Hood River Valley. It’s an elemental force for which we are known. The Columbia Gorge is the largest air transfer route through the Cascade Mountains. When the prevailing winds return in the … More Blowin’ in the Wind
Spring Trees, the audio version. Click here and follow along with the text. First, a few notes. I’ve been reading Late Migrations by Margaret Renkl. (thanks Ginger!) and The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben. Today, May 10th, 2024, my brother Earl/Butch turns 80. He has Alzheimers Disease and lives in a facility in … More Spring Trees
“How long must we live to learn how to survive?” Jhumpa Lahiri from Roman Stories March chores. I rake leaves. I pick up broken branches from January’s storms. I gather the debris for composting. Crocuses peek out from under the white bark birch. I rest for a bit. I drag out the tiller. I turn … More March Chores
“Why are we not better than we are?” Eric Trethewey from Frost on the Fields, a poem I walk the streets of my neighborhood alone. I search for harbingers of spring. I find omens instead. Crumpled masks litter the gutter. A feral cat skitters away to a hidey hole. It’s the mucky middle of winter. … More Mid-Winter
“It’s a messed up world, but I love it anyway.” Greg Brown from Two Little Feet Successive storms stagger into the valley. Swollen rivers rush from the foothills to the Columbia. On the street, fallen leaves coalesce in soggy stews of cellulose. They stick to the shoes of holiday shoppers. Downtown, the greasy residue adorns … More The Glory And The Pity
“A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic.” Carl Sagan Saturday dissolved in a murky soup of bad weather. A November storm drenched the valley. Rain fell, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. Me and my cat, Spanky, stayed indoors. It was the sensible thing to do. We ate, we napped, and I … More November Rain
Good Blood, Bad Blood 